Nate and I sat in the emergency room at the hospital. There we waited for the orthopedic physician to examine the huge abscess that covered Nate’s hand. When he arrived, he began assessing Nate, while I explained the complexities of Nate’s diagnosis, as well as his behavior. I shared that my son did not like to be examined and that he could be quite combative and difficult when touched.
The doctor listened, as he looked at the abscess and determined that Nate would require surgery. However, before the surgery the doctor explained that an Intravenous (IV) injection would be placed into Nate’s arm.
I once again repeated to the physician that Nate would not allow that to be done, then I asked for another option. The doctor, proceeded to tell me that they had other patients, who were difficult, and with restraint, they were able to place an Intravenous (IV) injection.
I gave the doctor a smile, yet I was a little annoyed as I explained that I knew my child. I continued by telling him that Nate would fight, as I had seen numerous times and I knew that it would not be safe for Nate and the medical staff that he proposed would hold him down. I then gave him a firm “NO!”, which I thought ended his attempts to get me to agree with the procedure.
I wasn’t trying to be difficult. I just knew Nate, and had seen his behavior during medical exams and it was not the best. Also, in the past, I allowed physicians or others to tell me what was best for my son, because they had other patients like him. They had tried certain methods or procedures and it worked for that other patient and they thought it would be the same for my child. I then allowed them to try it on Nate, and when it didn’t work, leaving Nate crying or in pain, I felt horrible. So, I decided that I would not approve any procedures that I knew was not good for my son.
The physician looked at me in shock as he excused himself, telling me that he had to consult with his attending physician. Moments later, he returned with a convincing smile, telling me that his boss said we should give the Intravenous (IV) injection, the “old college try”. I laughed as I reiterated my firm, “NO”.
He looked at me shocked and asked “Are you refusing?”, to which I replied, “yes.” The doctor excused himself, to speak to his attending physician again, to report my refusal. Minutes later, when he returned, there was an alternative plan that included giving Nate a little sedative to put him to sleep, before placing the Intravenous (IV) injection in his arm. I smiled thanking him, but I was more happy for standing up for what was best for my child.
The next day, after the procedure was over and Nate laid in his hospital bed sleeping, I sat on the sofa looking out the window. I was at ease that it was over, but I was even more happier with the lesson I had learned. That I will never be afraid to tell a doctor or anyone else, what is best for my child.